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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109198">Bloodletting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha'>Pyracantha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Concrete Blonde Reference Abuse, Human AU, It’s spooooooky, M/M, Possession, Racketghost’s Spooky October prompts, Vomiting, ghost hunters au, more tags will be added as needed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:00:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale have worked together “ghost hunting” all around England. Their show is a fun mix of Aziraphale’s assertive optimism and Crowley’s acerbic incredulity and it keeps the fans tuning in.<br/>While prepping for their next show they may have run into something altogether too real.</p>
<p>Prompt #1 - Ghosts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Darkening of the Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yay! I’m here trying to cram all of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/racketghost/pseuds/racketghost">racketghost's</a> 13 prompts into a coherant (ha!) story. Rated M for later close quarter sexy times adn some actual scares and blood. Warnings will be applied at the chapter level for any triggering content and the tags will also be updating.<br/>Thanks racket for letting us all play in the spooky ball pit!!</p>
<p>Titles from the album <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloodletting_(Concrete_Blonde_album)">Bloodletting by Concrete Blonde</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>
  <em>Like a ghost, is the curtain</em>
  <br/>
  <em>In the white light of the morning </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Dancing in the morning</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Are you there, are you there? </em>
  <br/>
  <em>And a shadow, like a sadness</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Falling all across the garden</em>
</p>
<p>~*~*~</p>
<p>Aziraphale looks up into the camera, his eyes wide in the eerie green glow of the night vision lens, “The junction is just up ahead. The very spot where they say he vanished 15 years ago tonight!”</p>
<p>The camera pans to show a long dark hall with only a few greenish artifacts reflecting light. Suddenly a sound overwhelms the audio, it sounds like a wail but as if it’s moving, refracting, feeding on itself, growing in volume and pitch until it almost feels like it’s inside your skull.</p>
<p>The camera stays trained on the hallway but after a few seconds of the “Sound” the angle, along with the camera, drops to the floor. Though the camera runs until the battery is drained, all it shows is the hallway. The dark void beyond the camera light never wavers.</p>
<p>“Fucking hell, angel, turn it off” The sound cuts off abruptly and Crowley turns to Aziraphale. They are seated in front of his editing bay, knees almost touching, facing him Crowley can see how haggard Aziraphale looks. They came straight to him once they’d driven like bats out of hell off of the property.</p>
<p>It had taken him two hours and a bottle of Talisker to even get Aziraphale to agree to let someone go back and get the camera. Newt refused to return no matter what they plied him with. They finally sent Eric, their new intern, and he’d returned with no unusual incidents to report.</p>
<p>“How long did you say it ran?” Crowley had only pulled the clip relevant to the “Sound.”</p>
<p>“35 minutes and 48 seconds before the battery died. I thought I had charged it up before we went in but,” his voice chokes up, “well you can see what happened.” He looks pale and shaken.</p>
<p>“Jesus. And you guys didn’t find anything that could have been there physically? No speakers, or caves or sommat? Nothin’ to explain” he gestures to the video frozen on the screen, “that?”</p>
<p>“No, Newt and I did a thorough search of the grounds before we started. It’s just your bog standard gothic revival disintegrating back into the ivy. I have NO idea what happened. Getting out is kind of a blur. Newt dropped the camera and I remember feeling like something was trying to claw its way out of or into my skull.”</p>
<p>He shudders and looks vaguely nauseous. Like he’s just had a blinding migraine. He puts his hand to his forehead as if he can still feel the sound running through him.</p>
<p>”It was like nothing I’ve ever felt Crowley.”</p>
<p>He turns his troubled eyes to his producer. They have worked together for years and Crowley’s never seen Aziraphale like this.</p>
<p>“I think we have to face the facts.” Aziraphale shivers and it takes a longer than usual moment for him to recover. “I think my dear, it might be an actual ghost</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the sky is a poisonous garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley &amp; Aziraphale return to the house to see what could have created the sound on their last video.</p><p>Prompt #2 - Bones</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for the support on these prompts! I went for proper scary in this chapter. I creeped myself out so I hope you enjoy it! 👻</p><p>tw: vomit &amp; I have added that to the main tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>He said, sun don't rise<br/>
He said sun don't shine<br/>
He said don't bring tomorrow<br/>
To justify tonight<br/>
The moon is full-the stars are bright<br/>
And the sky is a poisonous garden</i><br/>
Tonight. </p><p>~*~*~</p><p>So you really think it’s human?” Crowley’s voice shakes as he stands in the shadow of the house. </p><p>Aziraphale nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the shallow grave. He shudders and turns away. He locks eyes with Crowley and is surprised by the fear on his face. </p><p>“Crowley? Are you alright?” Aziraphale lays his hand on Crowley’s arm. </p><p>He’s unnaturally still, staring again at the bones. Aziraphale tightens his hold and asks again.</p><p>“Crowley?” He gives his arm a shake, gently, like you’d wake a sleepwalker. </p><p>Crowley finally turns and meets Aziraphale’s eyes but the movement is wrong. His head turns as if it’s on a string. Jerking slightly and swaying, almost like a snake being moved by a snake charmer. He’s lost his sunglasses at some point so Aziraphale can see the void where his amber eyes should be. </p><p>Aziraphale chokes out a noise and tries to back away but it’s as if his hand has fused with Crowley’s arm. As he yanks it backwards Crowley stumbles towards him and his mouth opens. </p><p>Aziraphale is engulfed by the sound. His scream is insignificant. His frantic attempts to detach himself are useless. The shrieking wail is a wall of sound, a boulder crushing him. The wail subsumes his body, he can feel it inside him. Branching out like a vine, filling him up with an absolute absence, scooping him out until there is nothing but the sound.</p><p>Abruptly it stops, Crowley pitches forward into Aziraphale and they both hit the ground. Crowley is unconscious and Aziraphale rolls over and vomits into the grass. He heaves until there’s nothing left. He tries to catch his breath, spitting to rid his mouth of the taste. </p><p>He sits up and shakes his head trying to dispel the feeling of silence in his head. </p><p>“‘Ziraphale? What?” Crowley starts to cough as Aziraphale turns to him. He helps him to sit up and the coughing continues. He rubs his back and murmurs terrified nonsense. He can hear himself and considers that a victory. He’s getting more anxious with every second Crowley can’t speak. </p><p>Crowley wheezes and then hacks up something thick and dark. It lands with a wet sound on the grass. For a moment everything is still. Their eyes are drawn to the glistening patch. As they watch it slowly crawls away.</p><p>Crowley’s breathing is harsh as he’s hauled up by his arm and dragged by Aziraphale back towards the truck. He all but throws Crowley in the passenger seat and slams the door. </p><p>Moving faster than Crowley has ever seen him he gets in the truck and starts it, jamming his foot to the floor causing the truck to slide sideways on the gravel as he slams it into drive. </p><p>The cab of the truck is filled with the sound of Crowley struggling to breathe. Aziraphale tentatively (but bravely) puts his hand again on Crowley’s arm. </p><p>“I’m taking you to Anathema.” he says. He’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake. </p><p>Crowley’s hand finds Aziraphale’s and he laces their fingers together. Aziraphale takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on Crowley. He pushes the truck faster, driving through his fear. The witch will know what to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lullabye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Something has gone badly wrong. Aziraphale as always thought himself of someone good in a crisis but he's never had to save Crowley and he's finding he has hidden depths. </p><p>Prompt #3 - Graveyard</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! I was going to just make this one big one since I'm a few prompts down but damn if this didn't just want to take it's sweet time. So enjoy a late chapter 3 and look for a few more tonight!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>When the sky has fallen<br/>
Like a blanket on your shoulder<br/>
And the moon is like a mother<br/>
Looking over you forever<br/>
And the dawn is so familiar<br/>
You were meant to be together<br/>
Like a fog around a mountain, forever</i>
</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale just drives. He’s never been actually good at it but he’s the only chance Crowley  has at the moment. He hates how careful he’s being, never thinking he’d miss Crowley’s ability to just barely escape tipping the top heavy vehicle onto its side as he takes a corner too fast. Aziraphale is trying desperately to ignore the increasingly wet sounds Crowley’s lungs are making. The way his hand is starting to clench on Azriaphale’s painfully. </p><p>He’s been muttering nonsense to Crowley the whole time. </p><p>“Shhh, shhh.” The trees ahead light up in his headlights. “Just hold on and we’ll be there soon.” The trees look increasingly skeletal as they approach the graveyard that marks the beginning of Anathema’s road. </p><p>Crowley coughs thickly and Azirphale tries to drive faster. This old road needed to be paved 20 years ago. He drives as fast as he can on the packed earth. Anathema will know what to do. It’s all he can think. He’s terrified, it’s like he’s being piloted to Anathema’s house and from there it’s all a blank. He'll get them there and then somehow, it will be fine. </p><p>They slide around the last curve, the headlights picking out all of the wavelets on the pond next to the house. Crowley groans, chokes on the sound and starts to cough again. </p><p>“Shhh. It’s OK, love. Shh.” Aziraphale slams on the brakes and the truck skids before stopping next to Anathema’s bike. He’s out the door and running around the side while calling for help. </p><p>“Anathema! Anathema!” He feels like everything is in slow motion. He’s wrenching the passenger side door open and Crowley fairly falls out in his arms. </p><p>“ANATHEMA!” He shouts again, more panic than voice. </p><p>“Can I help?” a voice near his shoulder asks as Crowley gags and some wiggling gelatinous black is expelled on the door of the truck. </p><p>“Grab his other side!” Aziraphale replies after <i>definitely</i> shrieking at apparently being snuck up on. </p><p>The young man gets under Crowley’s other shoulder and they both half drag half carry him towards the house. The closer they get the heavier Crowley feels. He’s still coughing occasionally and Aziraphale can smell something rotten now that he’s close, so close to Crowley’s pale face. As they get to the porch Crowley’s eyes roll back and he passes out cold. </p><p>They are barely saved from dropping him by the couch on the porch, it’s old springs and faded tartan catching Crowley like a cradle. Aziraphale immediately checks to see if Crowley’s breathing and once he’s satisfied that he’s unconscious and not dead he turns to the man.</p><p>Only there is no man.</p><p>Aziraphale stands whirling around in circles looking for him. All he sees is Anathema’s front yard, the truck parked at a haphazard angle, the headlights still on, the passenger side door open, the drag marks through the dirt and gravel leading up to Anathema’s house. </p><p>At that minute Anathema appears around the side of the house. She looks flustered and that’s completely horrifying in a different way.<br/>
Aziraphale is barely keeping himself together and he feels his edges fray further when he can’t seem to articulate which emergency to convey and he ends up with “Crowley, the man, something terrible is inside him, and then he disappeared!”</p><p>Inarticulation in a crisis is it’s own special hell. </p><p>He grabs her by the arm and takes a deep breath, “It’s Crowley. We were back at the place we filmed, at a grave, and something happened. Now he’s full of something,” he shudders, “I don’t know what to do.” His face pleads with her and he’s only aware that he’s crying when she reaches out a hand to wipe the tears away. </p><p>“I’ll see what I can do.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Vampire Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes we need an outsider POV don't you think? </p>
<p>Prompt #4 - Vampire</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to Chapter 4! I thought we could all use a breather from the scary action and I like our helpful friend here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>There's a rocking chair by the window<br/>
Down the hall<br/>
I hear something there in the shadow<br/>
Down the hall<br/>
Oh, you were a vampire<br/>
And now I am nothing at all</i>
</p>
<p>~*~*~</p>
<p>He’s always been here. It’s like one of those old zoetropes. Sometimes time gets jerky. Parts speed up and slow down and he has trouble keeping up. He remembers when this place was part of Wessex. he remembers farther back then that. Tonight is one of the slow motion times. </p>
<p>He can see something coming fast down the road towards him and he is transfixed at the waves of fear he can see surrounding it. He’s always been good at seeing the strongest emotions. He loves to hear the witch talk about auras. What she sees is such a pale imprint of what he can see and it makes him happy that there is someone else who can see these intangibles writ large even if she only gets a glimpse of the whole. </p>
<p>As the truck gets close it is almost obscured by a cloud of fear and love. They twine together and make him itch. To be even a small part of that love is a powerful lure and then help is needed so it's only natural for him to try. </p>
<p>Sometimes he’s unable to find the right frequency, he has to get the right one or he will only be able to watch, wistful, from the sidelines. But this time the love is so strong it helps him snag on to the right part of time. </p>
<p>“Can I help?” he asks and judging by the shriek, he’s been able to make himself heard. </p>
<p>“Grab his other side!” the fair haired driver yells and so he moves to the side of the one who so obviously needs help. The fear is pouring off of him. It makes it hard to grab hold of the ill man but the love the driver keeps pulsing out helps. They drag the man towards the witches' porch. </p>
<p>He helps to lay him down on the old sofa and watches as the driver touches his love, pressing a hand to his head, leaning his head down and listening to his breath, his heartbeat. It settles him. The fear is still blaring but now it’s got a bright gold thread of hope running through. </p>
<p>He hears the witch approaching and sighs. He lets loose the snag in time that allowed him to be here now. It’s always hard to watch the aftermath and this time is no different but he is heartened to hear the witch promise to help. </p>
<p>He wanders towards the back of the house. There’s a very neat little box on one of the taller trees that appeared recently. It can be nice to hang there, snug and warm, darting out at dusk to have a meal. He’s pleased that even unawares, the witch is as hospitable a host as he has ever had.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Beast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three friends start a YouTube channel and luckily one is a witch. She's here to help. Right?</p><p>Prompt #5 - Witches</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I keep thinking I might be able to smash a few of these prompts together but they keep making themselves proper little independant ones.<br/>Thanks for continuing to read! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Former believers they beg for release</em><br/>
<em>As love looking down on them</em><br/>
<em>Smiles and picks his teeth</em><br/>
<em>Trapped in between heaven and hell</em><br/>
<em>He knows all the secrets</em><br/>
<em>And don't want to tell</em><br/>
<em>There's nowhere to run and there's</em><br/>
<em>Nowhere to hide</em><br/>
<em>Love knows you all too well</em><br/>
<em>He will find you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>~*~*~</em>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema glances up at the sound of groaning. It looks like Crowley has tried to move again but Aziraphale has the situation in hand, leaning in, brushing the hair from Crowley’s sweaty face. Murmuring soothing noises, turning to look to see how Anathema is getting on. She gives him a small nod and goes back to the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not a witch in practice that often. Her work is usually more theoretical. She’s more than competent against any question of modern wicca esoterics but this is miles out of her league. She’s made due with brewing up a strong batch of poppy leaf tea and it seems to be keeping Crowley as comfortable as he can be with the dark thing that has hold of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can see it swirling in his aura, a sucking void against his star speckled navy blue. Aziraphale’s is flaming, red and yellow reaching out as if to surround Crowley with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s been their researcher for six years and their friend for longer. She remembers when they started, just mates trying to make it in the London gig economy. Researching places to film, scouting out locations. She always made sure they grounded their stuff in actual history so she didn’t feel like a complete tool for using her PhD to “ghosthunt”. Her mother would kill her if she knew what YouTube was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale and Crowley have always been close but she had no idea they were together.  Seeing that blaze of protection surrounding Crowley speaks volumes and she wonders how long it’s been going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anathema!” Aziraphale calls. “He’s getting restless again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming.” She ladles more tea into a mug and brings it into the sitting room. “Here you go. Do you still have the spoon?” She kneels down next to them, watches as Aziraphale spoons little sips of tea into Crowley’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She checks Crowley’s forehead and is relieved to find it clammy instead of fevered. “I think I’m going to have to call in my aunt. My real world experience with phonomena is extremely limited and from what I’m reading, this needs more power than I have to expel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what we’re dealing with exactly?” Aziraphale’s hands are steady but his voice wobbles a bit at the end. He puts down the mug and spoon and his hands return immediately to Crowley. Smoothing down his gore spattered shirt, she’s not even sure he knows he’s doing it. Seeing them on the porch hadn’t been shocking exactly, mostly because she had actually been expecting it. It had frightened her far more than she wanted him to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him a shrewd look but he's not paying close attention. “I’ve got a few ideas but there’s only so much I can research. We need someone with practical expertise. Agnes has seen things.” She pauses. “Things other people haven’t come back from. She’s the only person I know who might be able to pull this out of him.” She puts a hand on his and gives it a small squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles wanly and squeezes back. “Our own witch. I didn’t ever think…” he trails off and focuses back on Crowley’s face. Tears have started in his eyes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azriaphale.” She waits for him to look at her and when he does she squeezes his hand again. “I’ll call her now.” She gets up to grab her phone and make the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she listens to the phone ring she wills her shoulders to relax. She moves slowly back from the sofa towards the kitchen not wanting to turn her back on them. She hears the phone pick up and Agnes’s voice say “So it found you, did it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema finds herself nodding even though she knows Agnes can’t see her. She can feel it watching her though and she nods again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whispers down the line, “Oh god yes. How fast can you come?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Don't Need a Hero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When things scare even the experts what hope can mere mortals have?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>And all the games I have to play<br/>
I got to give a lot of me away<br/>
But the part with us<br/>
Will never be for sale<br/>
The words of love have been confused<br/>
The ways of love have been abused<br/>
Is this a lottery you win or lose?<br/>
I don't know<br/>
It's an endless circle over time<br/>
The place inside where I hold and find<br/>
Your sweet and happy music in my soul</i>
</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>Aziraphale’s hands rattle the teacup against the saucer, the sound like a shot in the thick silence. He wills himself to stop shaking, listening for any small sound from the living room but there is nothing but the sigh of the steam from the kettle and wind quietly wailing far away. Anathema has sent him in here to give him a minute to breathe and it was a mistake. </p><p>Now that he can’t see Crowley all he can think about is what happened back at the grave. The way Crowley’s face had seemed like a costume for something, some monstrous evil and getting him back even for a minute had just been luck. There’s no guarantee that Agnes can do anything to get rid of this entity. She said as much when she arrived, that it was bad, really bad. </p><p>Aziraphale’s prodigious vocabulary has abandoned him in this moment of panic spiral. He’s still shaking and now he’s added hyperventilating so his vision is starting to swim. He leans heavily on the counter and just lets everything overwhelm him. Tears dot the scarred countertop, little drops of brightness in the gloom of twilight. </p><p>Outside he can see the trees bending gently in the wind, their movements look like wings for a moment. Giant dark wings, beating towards the cottage, like they want to wrap themselves around it. </p><p>“Aziraphale?” Anathema calls. “Did you get more of the tea?” </p><p>Her voice sounds strained and he tries vainly not to let that make him more anxious. He takes a deep breath and grabs his handkerchief to wipe up his face. </p><p>“Coming now.” he calls. He can’t believe how steady his voice sounds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The tiniest of chapters but somehow it seemed like it's own complete terrified pearl. Thanks to anyone who's still reading along.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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